


Dynamite Boy

by Lady_Caryatid



Series: Wreck it Ralph AU [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: First Kiss, Hero's Duty, Jack is a Calhoun expy, Jack is a glitch, M/M, Wreck-It-Ralph - Freeform, Wreck-It-Ralph AU, pre main story if i ever get around to writing that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 08:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Caryatid/pseuds/Lady_Caryatid
Summary: In which Jack is simultaneously a glitch, a child of champions, and an aspiring player in Hero’s Duty, and Kent is just someone he happens to meet along the way.





	Dynamite Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Started some drawings exploring the idea of this AU a while back and kind of worked on and off again on this ficlet for a while! Kind of takes place before the timeline that I was thinking of but hope it still works.
> 
> The world building within the games in Wreck-it-Ralph is pretty visually distinct but also kind of vague so I didn’t focus on specifics as much/took some liberties, but hope you all can enjoy.

Jack first gets the nickname at the shooting simulator, concentrating on sharpening his aim in the early hours before any of the other cadets trickle in. The holograms shift and dodge around him, flickering wickedly in front of his eyes as he tries to discern the true targets from the decoy ones. 

He passes the simulation easily, demolishing the targets with ten seconds to spare on the timer. The holograms deactivate, the simulation environment melts back into the familiar gray training room, and Jack is just about to hang up his rifle when he hears faint _applause_ coming from the corner entrance.

Jack whirls around to see another cadet leaning in the doorway, slowly clapping his hands and grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Jack asks, still brain-addled from the exercise that he doesn't think to consider if he's being rude or not.

The guy puts his palms up in a gesture of mock defense. "Whoa there, easy man. You're not the only one who wants to burn the early hours, you know. I  was just passing by and thought hey, I'd watch you in action." He's shorter and slighter than most troopers, but walks up to Jack with an energy in his step that honestly no one has the right to have at this hour.

"Like they say. You really are one _dynamite_ boy."

"Hah." Jack smiles despite himself, shaking his head. "It's just training. Out in the field's a different story." _Anything can go wrong_ , he thinks silently, remembering all the accounts he'd regretted reading of troopers disappearing into the wilderness. He's almost done putting away his equipment when he realizes that he's been leaving the visitor standing awkwardly next to him the whole time.  

"Sorry, but who are y–"

"–Kent Parson. The one and only." Kent grins again. "Great to finally run into you, Zimmermann." 

\--

And that's how it started, meeting up at the training grounds to practice together, and taking off before it got crowded again. Kent talked a lot more than Jack, making up for his lack of bulk with an attitude the size of a small sun. He didn't really talk about things in any particular order. Usually it was just playfully trash talking the other cadets, telling amusing stories of nights they'd snuck out to party before getting caught by the supervisors back in their academy days. He doesn't ask Jack a whole lot of questions, and Jack is grateful for that, content to just listen to Kent's daily complaints about his station-mates' bad habits.

\-- 

"I'm glad you're making friends," Bob says to him, smiling through the holo-screen. Jack sighs, knowing that he's referring to exactly _one_ friend. "It's always good to have someone by your side. Invite him over sometime, your mother and I would love to meet him."

"I guess."

"Jack," Bob's face turns serious. "We–well, we're glad you're doing so well at the academy. You've been working so hard, and I just want to say, we are very proud of you. We know you'll do well in the field."

Jack's chest tightens apprehensively at the word _proud_. "The assignments aren't even in yet, Papa," he says. "You don't know how things will turn out."

" _Jack_ –" 

"I'll ask Kent if he wants to visit over break." He waves his hand and dissolves the holo-screen, watches the concerned face of his father fade away. Jack can't stand to see him now, his voice soft and full of unearned affection.   Praise always sounds hollow to him, no matter how earnestly it might be delivered.

He brings up the invitation to Kent after dinner that night.

\--

It's always there even when he isn't directly aware of it, an electric layer under his skin, crackling and humming and keeping him hyperaware of the slightest infraction in his surrounding environment. _It's too dangerous_ , some say, _it's some sort of ancient secret survival power_ , say others. Jack has read a lot of reports about the many types of Glitches that exist within the Game, and knows the kinds of words reporters love to use when describing them. _Unhinged. Unreliable. Destructive. Infectious. Can their programming be repaired?_

People speak of Glitches wandering around the edges of worlds, fading into the landscape or morphing into unrecognizable forms. People speak of Glitches with a mixture of pity and suspicion. _What did they do to become like that?_ They wonder. Glitches are always just beyond the realm of understanding. Glitches, as far as people are concerned, are never soldiers, never main players, never _people_.

And yet here he is. Jack Zimmermann. Top-Ranking cadet. Son of legendary heroes. _Glitch_.

The condition is listed in his files, confidential of course, buried under the weight of the name ZIMMERMANN and a long chain of impressive achievements, but still there, waiting for the right moment to demonstrate itself in the worst possible way.

\--

 

Jack spends the weeks before the awards announcement with Kent in the privacy of a tiny camp, and picking off the smaller cybug pests that occasionally creep into the territory.

It had been Kent's idea to get away from the bubbling excitement of the crowds in the citadel where rumors spread quickly as to who would be the first to be called, and bets of no small amounts were placed between their names. Jack avoided the gossip as much as possible.

At night, Kent mumbles half-remembered punchlines of bad jokes, knowing full well Jack won't understand. Jack wishes he could laugh at them, but he can never bring himself to do so.

"You're always so damn _tense_ ," Kent says, sitting up from his mat and edging himself closer to Jack's side. "You know we're in like, the most heavily guarded territory in _all_ the levels. We're not going to be attacked here, of all places."

Jack sighs and sits up to face Kent. It's dark, but Jack can still make out the outline of his friend's face, the faint glint of concern of his eyes. 

"We've gone over this already," Jack says,  feeling frustrated not just for himself but for Kent, who's had to hear his wearied explanation dozens of times by  now. "I can't just–I know that's true, but you can't change the way I _think_ by repeating a fact over and over again."  

"Then what _can_ I do?" says Kent, in what almost sounds like a whine. "Don't just think you can fucking lie there in some crazy brain-cycle, while _I'm_ here and–" Kent pauses abruptly, breathing hard and biting his lip.

"Would you feel better if I kiss you?" He asks, straight up. It sounds more like a demand than a question, and it takes Jack off guard for a moment.

"I don't know," says Jack blankly.

Kent awkwardly places a hand on Jack's shoulder and slowly draws him near. "It's worth a shot," he says, and Jack doesn't disagree. 

Kent's mouth tastes like the tinny rations they'd packed for their camping trip and Jack is sure that he's not much better.

"I'm sorry," Jack finds himself mumbling after they part. "I'm not–"

"Don't _apologize_ ." Kent demands again, taking deep breaths and still clinging to Jack.  "I'm always here for _you_ , you know that?" He pulls back to look Jack in the face, still gripping Jack's shoulder. "It's true, what everyone says. We can make it, have our names inscribed on the citadel's pillars forever.  We'll be unstoppable, Jack."

Jack hears the earnestness in Kent's voice and he understands, feels how intensely important this is for him. Kent Parson, who came from nothing, who learned over the years to compensate his smaller stature in battle with a wicked combination of speed and guile, clawing his way to victory with a viciousness that even made Jack uneasy at times. Kent, who finally decided to kiss his best friend with the same daring he'd shown jumping into the thick of action. 

A cold tremor flickers down Jack's spine and down to the tips of his fingertips, and he clenches his fists to contain himself. 

"Hey there," Kent slides his hand down to rest on Jack's fists, easing them open again. "It's okay. Feel better, dynamite boy." 

Kent's hair is disheveled but flat on the side he was just lying on, and his stupid cowlick is in his face again. Jack pushes it out of Kent's face, mumbles "Kenny, I–" thinks, _we'll need to get haircuts before the awards ceremony_ before leaning in and kissing him back.  

They lie silently beside each other for the rest of the night, Kent gripping Jack's arm tightly even as he falls asleep. Jack can feel him brimming with energy even in rest, ready to tackle the challenges of the future as soon as he wakes. _Feel better,_ Kent had demanded. As if Jack’s insecurities were just another target Kent could easily wipe out for him like a cy-bug in the simulators, with strategically placed words or gestures or quiet kisses in the dark.

The thing is, Jack isn’t sure what _better_ is supposed to feel like. Kent has always been relentless about what he wants, and it's a strange and not unpleasant feeling, to be at the receiving end of being so intensely desired by someone you care deeply about. Thrilling, even. He feels his heart rate increase, and isn't sure if it's due to the Glitch or general nerves, or if it's what people call _love._

(Jack has often recalled his own parents, their tandem images projected onto screens before worshipful crowds, a public image of two beautiful, powerful, champion lovers, conquering the forces of darkness by each others' sides, and faintly wonders if such a vision could someday be possible for him someday as well.)

Kent mutters something unintelligible in his sleep– about cats, possibly?–and shifts closer to rest his head on Jack's chest, and Jack entertains a dangerous thought. Maybe it _is_ love, and thus they're both destined to inevitably find a solution to everything.   _Isn't that what the stories all say_?

 _Unstoppable_ , Kent had called them, determination and desire flashing in his eyes. Maybe, even if Jack couldn't, Kent could believe that vision enough to sustain the both of them.

Maybe he'd finally feel _better_.


End file.
